Through My Veins
by xwiltedxdaisiesx
Summary: The Joker is locked up in Arkham, he's feeling a bit under the weather and orders the staff to call his doctor from home, when the poisonous woman arrives, no one is safe. Joker/Poison Ivy
1. It's Been a Year Master Wayne

Disclaimer: So here I am totally making the biggest sin in the history of DC Comics. Poison Ivy + The Joker the sex. I dont like Harley Quinn and here's why, she's weak. She was always just a weak character to me, and I thought the joker deserved someone more down to his level if you get what I'm saying. I know that Pamela Isley's history is a little mixed up, but this fic would just be considered like the third movie to the Batman Begin's series. So imagine hunky Heath Ledger playing an inexplicably hott psychopath mmk. So in conclusion, I own nothing.

"I...I would-I have been feeling slightly under the weather..." he informed the guard that joined him in his padded cell.

The bulky man ignored him, just as he had thought. That's what the guards were trained to do at Arkham Asylum, ignore the patients insane twittering. The Joker was nonplussed by his only companions lack of response. So he decided to take on a slightly different approach.

"Let me explain, friend. I have been having these, sort of random bouts of horrible, uhm, horrible vomit that just come out of no where." he continued, using his hands to portray the act itself.

The guard adjusted his belt under the overhang of his large stomach, but other then that gave no signs of interest except for a slight annoyance behind his expression. He was used to hearing patients scream and rattle of about things that didn't make sense, he was used to random crying and anger, people ripping out their hair. And he heard that this guy was supposed to be a real whack job. So why wasn't he acting like one? It was eerie. The only thing that seemed insane about him were the two scars etched across his face. Crooked lines from the sides of his mouth that curved upwards to make a perpetual smile on his face.

"Maybe its just the food, but uh, I have a real sensitive stomach," the Joker continued his small talk.

"Know what I mean there tubby?" he let out a wicked grin, showing his yellow teeth.

"If you have a problem with the food, you talk to your psychiatrist at four." the guard informed him rather irritably, most likely a bit sore from the 'tubby' remark.

The Joker let out a lamenting sigh, "Oh. _That_ guy. No, nope. He doesn't like to talk to me. I think he just has issues."

"No, no see the _real_ problem isn't the food. I, call me crazy, but I think I need my doctor."

"You'll see your psychiatrist when he comes in at four." the guard repeated.

"No, gosh what does it take to get it, I need to see my doctor. The one with the stethoscope. You know, 'turn your head and cough', 'the needle's not that big', 'time for your tetanus shot', _that _doctor." the Joker burst out getting a few inches away from the guards face.

The guard was taken aback at first by his sudden outburst, then he quickly remembered Arkham's policy of how to restrain patients when they got violent. He repeated the actions in his head over and over just in case the Joker got out of control.

"Talk to your psychiatrist and he'll get a doctor from one of the local hospitals to come and check you out." the guard repeated slowly, his grip tightening on the door handle just in case he had to haul ass out of there.

The Joker backed up giggling, the giggle eventually turned into a maniacle laughter.

"F-fine. I'll talk to the head doctor at four woohoo. Since you _obviously _don't get it." he managed to breathe out in between his fits.

"Another late night then, Master Wayne?" Alfred said, setting down a tray of breakfast on the nightstand by the bed where Bruce Wayne slept.

The digital clock blinked '12:30 p.m.' but to Bruce it felt as if he had only been asleep for a few minutes.

"You could say that Alfred." he rolled over to reveal a large burn that plagued his left forearm.

"Batman's been busy then I see." Alfred deducted before sitting down in a leather chair opposite Bruce's bed.

"Always." he replied sitting up so survey the breakfast Alfred had brought up for him.

He took the tray off the nightstand and began to eat. Alfred watched him for a few moments.

Bruce Wayne, even a year after the death of Rachel Dawes, was looking a little worse for wear. The scars from his nightly escapades as the masked vigilante were more prominent than ever, etched for eternity across his golden skin. His hair was starting to fade from its usual dark ebony to a dull grey. The suits he wore, usually impeccable, were starting to collect dust and tears. His face had the constant worn-out look.

Alfred Pennyworth wasn't the only one who was noticing Mr. Wayne's deteriorating appearance, he was just the only person brave enough to say anything about it. He cleared his throat to get Bruce's attention. Bruce looked up from his breakfast, his eyes slightly glazed.

"It's, uhm, its been more than a year, Master Wayne." he began, fiddling with his thumbs.

Bruce let out an audible sigh. Now the truth comes out. He knew that Alfred didn't just sit around and watch him eat breakfast. He wanted to _teach_him something. Alfred always seemed to know when it was time for Bruce to come back down to earth and live life even when he didn't want to. And now the truth was out. Alfred wanted to talk _women_.

"And?" Bruce answered rather snappishly.

"Well, you haven't had a young lady around in a while," he continued.

"What's the point Alfred? What are you trying to tell me?" Bruce droned, already aware of the answer.

"You need to get on with your life and find someone else."

Bruce shook his head, physically rejecting the idea. He put the breakfast tray back on the nightstand, as he no longer had an appetite.

"She was going to wait for me." he breathed out, almost inaudibly.

Alfred said nothing, knowing that his master was still not quite ready for the truth. He picked up the tray and exited the room.

"Very well, Master Wayne."


	2. Long Distance Call

(A/N: And the story continues. Once again, all of the hardcore fans will be angry with me. Because the story is meant to be semi-realistic, so Pamela Isley aka Poison Ivy is not going to be immune to all poisons/toxins/plant crap etc. However, she is quite taken in the going green movement that has seemed to sweep the nation. And by the by, I have a nice juicy lemon all written out for everyone. What, you thought that there wouldn't be one? Its rated M for Christ sakes! No flames and maybe I'll let the beast out of its cage. I've never written for Batman before, so bear with me and writing for these characters bleh. I don't own shit.)

Even within the confines of his small cell, (which had been updated due to good behavior, he now had been moved to a room with a bed and desk.) he still managed to strike a tiny bit of fear into his psychiatrist's small stature.

Edward Kingsley dreaded the moment that the clock would strike four because he knew what he would have to do. He'd have to venture into the unknown. How would 'the Joker' behave for him that day? Over the past few days he had been surprisingly normal (as normal could be for him anyways) and compliant at the very least. He showed no progress with his sociopathic tendencies, and Edward secretly believed that it would remain that way. He had seen a lot of madness in his twenty year run as a psychiatrist at Arkham, but no one had quite as much stamina as the Joker. He didn't even have a real name. No previous record, no history, no parents, relatives, or friends to speak of; and his passionate obsession with _Batman_.

Edward entered room 1306 with low expectations of how the session was going to end. It was always a waste of time.

As usual the Joker was the first to speak.

"Tubby McGee told me that if I have a problem I got to have a little chit chat with you." He said tilting his head, his usually manic grin completely gone.

Edward took a seat at the desk and emptied his briefcase of files, placing them neatly in a stack before answering.

"And?"

"And?" the Joker imitated him, "Let's chit chat then!"

With a swift move of his arm he pushed all of the files off of the desk and sent them flying. He giggled at the doctor's irritated expression as he picked up every last paper. The Joker sat in the chair opposite Edward, propping his feet up. Edward was used to spending the entire session looking at the bottom of the Joker's feet, what was worse was that shoes were not allowed to the patients at Arkham, and his hospital gown was quite open and breezy. It's like he wanted to play whip it out to see whose is bigger. (Even the doctor knew he wouldn't win.)

"What seems to be the problem, Jack?" Jack was the name that Edward had assigned him, because he said it was healthy to forget his past identity as an imaginary character and continue on with life, having a real name and a real identity. The Joker never answered to it anyways, so it's not like it mattered.

"Uh, it's Joker and I'm feelin' down in the dumpy dumps." He said pushing back his unruly mat of hair.

"How so?" Edward asked, opening his pen up to take notes. Maybe for once he was about to open up?

"Uhm, sort of like a volcano, but a volcano that erupts vomit." He said, faking a gag.

"Oh," Edward put his pen down, rather put out.

"Yeah, sorry to disappoint." He said baring his teeth apologetically.

"But I need, I need you to call my doctor."

"Well, I can have one of the Doctor's from Gotham General over first thing tomorrow," Edward said making a note.

"No, no, no, no," the Joker rose from his seat, frustrated, and began to pace the room, "No and no. I mean I want _my_ doctor. I need you to call her, and tell her to come here. She will, I know she will. She's kinda got a thing for me." He winked at the doctor before laughing.

"_How anyone could have a 'thing' for that maniac? That really was a_ joke. "Edward thought.

"Well what's wrong with one of the Doctor's from the hospital?" Edward asked, rather confused.

"_Everything_! I NEED my doctor," the Joker burst out turning over his chair.

"Fine, fine! But if you don't have her number we're not looking it up. And she'll have to pay for her own transportation…" Edward continued, hoping not to agitate him any further.

"206-555-7460, name's Pamela Isley, tell her Joker needs some assistance and she'll haul her pretty little legs over." He spat out.

The doctor gathered his files and stuck them hastily back into his briefcase; he knew that today, just like every other day, they were going to get nowhere. The Joker stared at him rather incredulously, wondering why the hell he hadn't called her yet.

"Call her! Get out your cellular device and give her a ring a ling. It's only 1 in Seattle! She'll be awake…" he demanded, getting rather close to Edwards face.

Out of fear for his life Edward reached a shaking hand into his coat pocket and pulled out his blackberry, dialing the number as fast as he possibly could.

The phone rang twice before he heard the pickup and someone fumbling with it in their hands.

"_Hello?"_ A husky female voice answered.

"Ahem. Um, yes, this is Doctor Edward Kingsley from Arkham Asylum in Gotham City, New Jersey." He answered back, somewhat flustered as the Joker had his ear up against the other side of the phone, trying to listen in.

"_And?"_ she demanded her voice suddenly poisonous sounding.

The Joker leaned his head back and had a little giggle fit of his own.

"Um, well, a patient here has requested that you come and treat him. He won't take treatment from anyone else you see an-"

"_Who?"_

"Uhm…The…the Joker." He said, swallowing a lump in his throat.

There was silence on the other line until finally there emerged a long exasperated sigh.

"_Fine. I'll be in tomorrow."_

"Would you like to speak to him?" Edward asked looking at the Joker who shook his head, already knowing the answer.

"_No."_ and with that she hung up.

Edward hadn't realized how much he had been sweating, or how his voice managed to jump an octave higher. Without saying a thing he tore out of the room, while the Joker rolled around on the floor laughing harder than ever.

They were still as idiotic as ever.

(A/N: I know, short. But there's still so much more to come. And yes I believe 206 is one of the Seattle area codes. I read somewhere that Gotham is located in New Jersey or that area anyways. Anyways, reviews welcomed. Captain Deadpool, thank you for the review! I'm actually a bit rusty, haven't written a fanfic in a while. ;. Glad you enjoy the pairing like I do. We are a rare breed.)


	3. Miss Me?

(A/N: Damn, I am just pumping these chapters out; still got a few more chapters before the awesome sexy party. But I warn you, in this chapter there is some of ahem _my humor_. My humor is stupid. Just to warn everyone. You'll be reading and be like 'crap, seriously Wilt?' But anyways, I DON'T OWN YOU CHARACTER BUT I WISH I DID SO I HAD A LOT OF MONEY AND I COULD DO NOTHING BUT WRITE FANFICS ALL DAY AND NOT HAVE TO GET UP EARLY TO WORK TOMORROW.)

Pamela Isley was not excited to be flying across the country to see him, but then again, what else did she have to do? It had been almost two years since the "fall out" with Dr. Jason Woodrue; although "fall out" was a severe understatement. It had been almost two years since she fell in love with him, and he decided to take advantage of it by testing out his insane experiments in her, one particularly fatal enough to give her a severe chemical imbalance in her brain giving her one of the severest cases of what the doctors called "Bi-polar" disorder, so severe that she had to make her own lithium medication with a high enough dosage to be somewhat "balanced". Although "fall out" just seemed to fit into quotations much nicer.

She managed to scrape by her last year of training and was now an official licensed practitioner. However, through that year she became extremely detached and antisocial. She was very ashamed of her illness, and often felt like two people. She was incredibly diligent with her medication, taking it the same times every day, she didn't want an episode. She didn't like not being in control. She didn't like to feel as angry as she did during an episode, and then suddenly retreat back into giggling kindness, or crashing into a debilitating depression.

People told her that she was beautiful, and she knew it. But that was all. Nothing else was said about her. Most people saw her as a statue of a Greek statue of a goddess: magnificent to look at, with her shapely figure, flowing long hair, and seductive lips, but not much for conversation.

However, underneath the exterior, there was a torrent of emotions, and the Joker knew that. And he was prepared to play with them as much as he could.

They first met in Seattle, they were going into the same college, and she was a freshman and he a junior. They had met in her pre-med Biology class. He was a shy, teacher's aide, she an even more timid med-student. She had a slight crush on him, and his wide, goofy smile. He noticed her immediately, her beauty, her heart, he noticed mostly her heart because she wore it on her sleeve, and he was happy to play around with it as he pleased.

They would spend late nights talking outside her dorm, his ideas were radical and they frightened her. But at the same time, she felt incredibly drawn to him. He never told her his name, but told her to call him 'the Joker'. She did whatever he asked.

And one night, he just up and disappeared. No one knew where he went, and no one even really bothered to look. He was off to 'bigger and better' things. However, he did visit her once after his sudden embarkation.

When she did see him, she didn't quite recognize him. They passed each other on the street, he grabbed her by the arm and wheeled her towards him, _"Miss me?"_ he whispered to her.

There were two scars leading from the corners of his mouth upwards into a crooked grin, his eyes had dark circles underneath, his hair was lank and had darkened considerably. And yet, he was still immensely and dangerously attractive to her.

Pamela had no idea how he got those scars, or why he had ended up in Arkham Asylum all the way across the country. The only thing that she had heard out of Gotham City was that they had a masked vigilante that watched over the city, named 'Catman' or something. Maybe they had nothing better to do.

When she got off the plane at Gotham Airport she immediately felt the eyes and attention of quite a few men on her. All of them were thinking the same thing,

"_They don't make them like that in Gotham."_

She ignored their stares and made her way out to find a cab that would take her to Arkham.

She figured that she'd move to Gotham. It was a new start in a prospering city. It was a way to start over fresh and forget all about her past. Maybe she'd even find someone.

She finally caught a cab after standing outside for about ten minutes.

"Arkham Asylum please." She said unconsciously fixing her green blouse and grey pencil-skirt.

The cab driver gave her a look down and seemed quite pleased.

"Sure," he answered, repeatedly looking in the rear view mirror, adjusting it to get a good view of her breasts without making it too obvious.

It was about a fifteen-minute ride to the asylum, and during that time she managed to get a white coat on, along with her practitioners' license at the ready so they would let her in. They finally reached the towering, gloomy establishment and she paid the cab driver. Coming through the double boors she received the same welcome from the male guards as she had gotten at the airport.

Ignoring them she made her way to the guard at the front desk. A stringy, balding man looked up at her rather shocked at first, and then anger filled his face, his ears growing red. Before Pamela could say anything, he bellowed to the guard behind him,

"Get Jimmy away from the phones! The damn patient called the strippers in again!"

Anger boiled inside her chest, she had a secret fantasy concocting in her brain that included her tearing off the guards badge and shoving it through his head, while impaling him on his own nightstick.

"No, there's no need for that. I'm Pamela Isley, I'm here to see a patient." She assured him, showing him her id.

He scrutinized the id before giving her the thumbs up to proceed through the metal detector.

"Could you tell me where I could find the Joker's room?" she asked hopefully.

He raised his eyebrows; this little girl obviously didn't know what she was getting into.

"1306," he replied, a hint of warning in his voice.

She nodded thanks at him, though he didn't deserve it. She walked down a long white hallway before seeing the number '1306' on a white door to her left. She gathered her courage, not sure what to expect, putting her hand on the handle and opening up the door to a new life, one that she couldn't leave even if she tried. She knew what she was doing, but at this point in her life, she needed a little excitement.

"Miss me?"

She looked at her previous crush, and he looked the same as he had the last time she'd seen him. Pale, grinning with that perpetual smile, and full of energy and life, but now, there was something in him that died. She wasn't sure what it was, but he was not the same.

"Not really." She replied, remaining close to the door just in case she had to haul ass out of there.

He smiled, because he knew she was telling the truth. And she was lying. He took a quick step towards her, a little too quick as she tightened her grip on the door handle.

"Then why you here legsy?" he asked, staring blatantly at her legs, imagining the skin beneath her pencil skirt.

He was a legs man, he told her that once. He always looked at her legs blatantly and he never seemed to care if she noticed or not.

She didn't reply, in an honest loss for words. He sauntered up to her and stuck his hands underneath her face, gripping her a little too harshly.

"Well I missed you, red." He said with a devilish smirk.

She brought his hands down forcefully.

"What do you want?" she asked angrily, she was tired of being toyed around with.

He backed up and flopped down onto his bed, sighing loudly. He sat up and stared at the woman before him. She was different; she had internal scars and made the mistake of wearing them on her sleeve. Someone had managed to break her heart before he could. Maybe only in half though, maybe he could manage to shatter her into a million little pieces. Maybe he could push her over the edge. So all hope was not lost.

"I want you to be my doctor. Because you can handle me," he said the first note of a serious tone she had seen yet.

She wasn't sure how to respond, her old self would've immediately said 'Yes! Now make love to me!' but she knew that there was a catch, there always was.

Pamela Isley would say yes anyways, but she had no idea what she was saying yes to.

(A/n: The plot (kind of) thickens!! Again, short chapter and I apologize for that. I've thought of writing out a short little tale of Pam and The Joker while they were in college together after I'm done with this fic. How about it?)


	4. Miss, actually

(A/N: So here we are again, at the start of a new chapter. Capn' Deadpool, welcome to being my new best friend, and Estelle.evenstar72 thank you for your enthusiasm for my little tale! . I'm proud two have 2 reviewers; I'm a gal of simple taste. But anyways, we're counting down to sexy time. (I just have to keep mentioning it because I keep revising this lemon and it's so special to me). I know we haven't seen much from Bruce yet, but I promise that he'll be back soon. Anyhow, onward we fly! With the characters I don't own!)

Pamela awoke with a start to hear the 'Cingular Orchestra' ringtone plaguing her sleep. She rolled over in her hotel bed, wiping the sleep from her eyes and hastily grabbed her cell phone off of the balsawood end table.

"What?" she answered, not even bothering to look at the caller id.

"_Miss Isley?"_ an irate voice came from the other end.

"This is she."

"_The Joker isn't letting me take his vitals; he's requested that _you _do it from now on. Seeing as you agreed to be his doctor."_

Pamela let out an angry sigh. She was being bothered at six in the morning to go and take someone's vitals. Not to mention, she didn't appreciate the nurse's tone.

"_Get a real trade,"_ she felt like spitting out at the nurse.

She knew that taking their vitals every morning was asylum procedure, but couldn't he wait to see her later that day? He must've taken her response as being her doctor much too literally. However, it was her duty to be there, and Arkham did offer her a job with a decent amount of pay. They figured they'd hire anyone who could make the Joker cooperate. And if she could do that for him, imagine how well she would do with the rest of the patients.

"Fine. I'll be there in fifteen minutes." She finally said, sitting up slowly so as not to invoke dizziness.

The nurse put the phone down with a loud click, without even bothering to say goodbye; how utterly rude. Pamela rummaged through her suitcase until she found a green cap-sleeve, knit dress. Not bothering to shower (she had the night before) she put her long red hair up into a clip and hastily applied a minimal amount of make-up. Grabbing her files, briefcase, lithium pills, and white coat, she headed to the elevator.

She made sure to find a motel within walking distance of the Asylum, as she was not a fan of public transportation. She found that in Gotham City she received far too many stares. While taking her ride on the elevator from the 2nd floor to the lobby she set her digital watch for 10:27 a.m. and 4:00 p.m. Those were the two times when she had to take her pills, lest she wanted an episode.

She emerged from the hotel to review her surroundings. Gotham city was a much different place in the morning than it was at night. In the morning, it was quiet. There were no cabs zooming by or horrid 

traffic that caused people to lay on their horn. No one had set up their little pawn shop stands yet, everything was closed. The only people out were a few morning joggers, and on this particular morning, one of them ran straight into her.

It felt like she had been hit by a train, whoever had hit her was not a tiny person by any means. She fell backwards flat onto her butt, sending her briefcase and files flying.

"I'm sorry, I should watch where I'm going," said a calm, deep voice.

She looked up to see a very tall, very handsome man. He had dark hair that hung around his smoky eyes in an incredibly sexy way. His upper body was strong and toned; this is what obviously knocked her over. Pamela would've immediately tore him to pieces if the man that knocked her over was ugly, but she was quite pleased when she looked up and saw who she did.

She accepted a golden, rough hand that helped her to her feet.

"It's alright," she said dusting off the back of her coat, looking around for her files that had managed to get strewn about the sidewalk.

She bent over to pick them up, but the man wished otherwise.

"No, please, let me." He said picking them up one by one.

When the files had all been collected into a messy pile, he handed them over to her.

"Thank you, Mr.-, "she began, hoping he would tell her his name.

"Mr. Wayne, Bruce Wayne." He answered a little eagerly.

"Pamela Isley," she said offering a hand.

He grasped her small, pale hand into his large golden one.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Isley." He said shaking cordially.

"Miss, actually." She corrected him.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I just assumed, someone as beautiful as you must have a husband." He said, looking down rather shyly. After all, she was beautiful; almost as beautiful as Rachel, but in a different way.

Pamela blushed furiously; perhaps her beauty was finally coming in handy.

She stammered for a minute, unsure of what to say to this handsome stranger. Bruce misread her reaction and took a step back.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be so forward." He apologized.

"No! No, it's fine. I just wasn't sure how to respond." She said, nervously pushing back a strand of apple-red hair.

"Well, Pamela, why don't you respond over dinner sometime?" he asked hopefully.

If possible, her cheeks grew redder. This perfectly amazing, handsome, wonderful stranger was asking her out on a date. And she'd only been in Gotham for a day! What were the odds?

"Yes, I'd…I'd like that." She smiled warmly.

"Tonight, then? Assuming you're not busy," he said looking down at her carefully.

"No, no I'm not busy. I'm staying at the Welles Inn, just a block from here. I mean, until I can find an apartment." She stammered nervously.

"I'll pick you up at 6 then. Wear something nice." He said before beginning to jog off.

"Wait! Where are we going?" she asked turning around to watch him.

"I'll surprise you," he replied waving goodbye as he jogged away.

Pamela let out a shriek of joy inwardly. She bagged a good one. She played the entire scenario over and over in her head as she walked three blocks to Arkham Asylum. Practically skipping through the double doors, she showed the guard her id and he let her through the metal detector. She continued skipping through the halls until she reached the Joker's room. Composing herself, she opened to door to see her patient sitting up in bed waiting for her.

He shook a scolding finger at her.

"You're late, red." He said tutting at her.

She ignored him and pulled a chair up to the side of his bed.

"So the nurse said you wouldn't let her take your vitals." She stated taking out her blood pressure strap.

The Joker shrugged before looking down at her exposed legs, he placed his right hand on her leg and began to rub small circles with his thumb. Pamela ignored this advance and stuck two fingers underneath his jaw line to feel his pulse, he didn't protest.

Normal.

She checked his blood pressure. Normal.

"Not so high energy in the mornings then?" she asked playfully.

"I want to have a little chit chat with you legsy." He said, ignoring her remark.

"About what?" she asked, suddenly worried.

He continued to rub small circles on her thigh.

"About uh, what's been going down since I've been gone. Last I heard, you were um, with some pedo?" he asked laughing at the last little bit.

She involuntarily tightened her hands into fists, her eyes filled with a rage that she was not aware of, but the Joker could tell he hit a nerve, and he was going to keep hitting it.

"Dr. Woodrue, my old biology professor. It didn't…work out," she said vaguely.

"Didn't work out?" he repeated, "What, did he dump ya?"

"Not exactly."

"Oh, you dumped him."

"Sort of."

"You're not…you see red, you're not giving me the uh the straight answers I'm looking for. So I'm just going to assume that he just screwed you dry and got tired of you and gave you the boot." He said looking at her mockingly.

Her anger flared. How dare he? How dare he assume such a thing?

"That's not what happened!" she spat out at him angrily.

"Then what huh? Did he move onto some other, more interesting nineteen year old? Did he, uh, did he just get bored with you, red?" he said, throwing his head back and laughing.

Pamela stood up and delivered a smack across the Joker's face that left a large red handprint, causing him to laugh even harder.

"That's not what happened you twat!" she screamed delivering a few more slaps to his face and chest.

He composed himself briefly before asking in a serious tone, "What did happen then?"

He grabbed her firmly by her leg and practically threw her back into her seat, keeping his grip just as firm. She wiped a few tears from her eyes, tears that she hadn't known she was crying.

"I-I just…I loved him. And he used me. He had this, this stupid idea. He thought that if…he could inject these certain stem-cells, that it could create immunity to certain kinds of toxins and diseases. And…I was young and stupid, and he asked if he could test it on me. I just, I just wanted him to love me. So…I let him. Instead of doing what it was supposed to, it created a severe off balance of chemicals in my brain. And now I have something called manic depressive disorder, and I have to take medication, and I feel like two people, and it's just, it's just…" she didn't finish.

The Joker listened to her free-fall of tears for a moment before lifting up her chin forcefully.

"You wanna know what I think?" he asked looking at her with a mock-worried expression.

She shook her head no, but he continued anyways.

"I think, you just got your itty bitty heart broken so many times, and you're finally getting pissed off."

(A/N: oh gosh, told you guys Bruce would show up. Isn't Christian Bale just delicious? He is quite delectable, if I do say so myself. Anyways, review, and I shall send you my love. In the form of another chapter.)


	5. Ya still have the hots for me, right red

(A/N: The story is still just beginning. I have so much yet that has to happen!! I know everyone must be like, 'Um, she's Poison Ivy…why no plant action yet?' Oh, there will be plant action my friends. Once again to my two lovely reviewers, I love you. I really do. So now there's a love triangle kind of. Pretty crazy, oh well. Let's keep this train moving shall we? I own your mom, but not these characters.)

Alfred was finally happy to see that Bruce was going out on a date. Unfortunately, the date was with a stranger, so for all he knew she could be a complete psychopath. But he trusted Bruce (sometimes) to make the right choice.

"Nervous, Master Wayne?" he asked as he helped Bruce slide his arms through his black tuxedo jacket.

"A bit," Bruce replied fixing the collar.

After all, it had been a few years since he went out on a real date. The women that he used to invite around his penthouse were just distractions. Distractions from Rachel, or used just to make her jealous. He had mixed feelings about taking Alfred's advice. He wasn't sure if he was quite ready to start dating, would he compare her to Rachel? He knew nothing about this woman, what if she was crazy? He didn't want to have to learn to love someone new all over again; he knew how to love a woman like Rachel and no one else.

He thought briefly about standing her up and just not showing up. Hopefully he'd never run into her ever again though if that were to happen. Batman was good with confrontation, Bruce wasn't.

"I'll be taking the Lamborghini." He told Alfred as he exited the room.

Alfred nodded, smiling to himself. He was certainly trying to impress her.

Pamela had a dark green Lace and Feather satin gown by Carmen Marc Valvo, and it was the most expensive thing she owned. Her parents bought it for her for a Christmas Party when she was in her senior year of high school, and amazingly it still fit. Her parents bought her love often, she knew it, so did they, and both parties were fine with it. She curled her hair as best she could, and put on her favorite bright red lipstick. She loved it, because she knew that she was one of the few people that could pull it off. At least without looking like a total whore.

She worried that the dress was too fancy, she worried that it might've showed a bit too much breast, she worried that her hair looked stupid, but the first thing that she worried about is the Joker. Would he find out about this? If he did, what would he do? What would he say?

"_He doesn't have to know,"_ she thought definitively.

It was about 5:50 when she decided to make her way down to the lobby. She received more stared than she had at the Gotham airport. It must've not been often that Gotham city saw a voluptuous redhead in a designer dress.

After waiting uncomfortably for 15 minutes she saw a stylish black Lamborghini pull up. That couldn't possibly be Bruce, could it?

Bruce Wayne stepped out of the car in a nice black suit, looking around for his date. She stood up immediately and made her way towards him. When he saw her his eyes lit up. Apparently her dress wasn't at all to fancy.

As she approached him her nerves began to get the better of her, she could feel her knees shaking and her heart felt as if it was going to explode out of her chest.

He took her hand in his and she practically melted.

"Shall we?" he offered towards the Lamborghini.

She nodded as he opened the door for her and they both got in. She was slightly frightened by his driving and found herself clutching the door handle several times. He merely chuckled and put his hand over her other to comfort her. It was surprising how comfortable she felt around Bruce.

After about ten minutes of silence they arrived at a fancy restaurant called À l'amour vous. He got out of the car and opened the door for her, offering her his hand once again.

"_Quite the gentlemen," _she thought happily.

They were seated rather quickly, almost as if he owned the place. Although, with all of the expensive things of his she'd seen already, it wouldn't come as a surprise. After they were given their menu's, complimentary bread, and water, now came the awkward part.

"So, Miss Isley, Pamela, can I call you Pam?" Bruce asked

"No one's ever called me Pam before, but if it suits you." She said shrugging.

"Pam it is then," he stated, flashing her a quick smile (she couldn't help but return one), "If you don't mind me asking, what is it that you do?"

"Well, I actually came to Gotham City yesterday. I hope to find an apartment soon; I'm a doctor at Arkham Asylum. At the moment though I only have one patient that I look after," she explained as best she could.

Arkham Asylum, Bruce had too many escapades with some of their patients, but he didn't feel like that needed to be in the conversation.

"Practitioner or psychiatrist?"

"Practitioner," she affirmed.

"Who is your patient?"

"Um, well. He doesn't really have a name…but, he calls himself, um…The Joker." she said, trying to act as nonchalantly as possible.

Bruce decided at that very moment that God must hate him and never wanted him to be happy ever again. The Joker? Seriously?

"Wow, you have your work cut out for you then?" he remarked.

"You could say that," she replied.

"_You have no idea," _she thought hastily.

"So what about you Mr. Wayne, with your fancy car?" she asked playfully.

He chuckled lightly at the remark before answering.

"I am the owner of Wayne Enterprises." He said tapping his fingers on the white tablecloth.

"Wow," she replied, honestly in awe.

He gave her a half-smile. He was tired of small talk though, he wanted to lay everything out on the table. He knew that he could never love a woman that didn't love the good the bad and the ugly of Bruce Wayne. He knew that his next remark would scare her off completely, but he was going to tell her anyway.

"Look. I was in a relationship with a special young lady named Rachel Dawes, and long story short; she was murdered last year…by the Joker. And to be quite honest, I want someone who is serious, who is looking for a relationship not just free rides in a Lamborghini. I have a lot of skeletons in my closet that in time, maybe I'll share with you, but I'm just laying this down right now so you don't think that I just want a fling, because I want a serious relationship. And nothing else. If you can't handle that right off, then I'll go ahead and give you a ride back to your hotel." He said looking her straight in the face.

She was quite taken aback by his sudden confession. She was extremely prepared, but for some strange reason she liked Bruce. She wanted to be with him, no matter how little she knew about him, she felt just so comfortable with him there. It seemed that he brought a balance of 'normal' into her life that she so desperately needed. If he was going to lay it all out, then so was she.

"Well, actually, Mr. Wayne, I was also in a very serious relationship a few years ago with my professor back in Seattle. He took advantage of me and decided to use me in an experiment. The experiment resulted in me receiving a chemical imbalance in my brain that I take medication for. I'm very diligent with it, so I don't have episodes, and I'm proud to say I'm a very balanced person. However, I am not looking for a fling, I'm not looking to be used; I'm looking for something real. So let's finish our dinner then?" she said looking for some kind of reaction in his smoky grey eyes.

"_So she is crazy then."_ He thought, _"And maybe I like it."_

"Let's." he said smirking at her.

The rest of their dinner they spent talking. Talking about their lives, their parents, their hopes, their fears, and throughout the entire dinner she felt nothing but comfort. She felt for the first time in a while, like she was normal. She was starting to like Gotham City.

After dinner she reached in her purse to take out a capsule of buckthorn. Bruce looked at her rather strangely before asking,

"What's that?"

"Oh, it's buckthorn. Buckthorn is a bitter herb, it helps stimulate digestion. I usually take it after each meal because my family has previous health issues with their digestive tract." She explained.

"Wouldn't a Tums work?" he asked, chuckling.

"This is healthier." She replied.

He drove her back to his penthouse to have a few drinks, nothing planned, just casual. She wasn't surprised to see how lavish that it was when she entered through the glass doors. They sat for a longer while, drinking off a bottle of Chablis between them. Both were a bit tipsy by the end of the night.

"I should probably get the limo driver to bring us back to your hotel," he slurred slightly.

She let a giggle escape her lips and nodded fervently. They both stumbled down to the limousine and got inside. As soon as he closed the door, she turned to him and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. It only seemed necessary after giving her such a wonderful night to dream about over the next few days. He looked at her for a moment, somewhat surprised. He placed his hand on the small of her back, and pulled her closer to him, placing his lips lightly on hers. He put one hand behind her head and pulled her in deeper, she accepted. She let herself melt into the kiss for a few moments before breaking it. The feeling of his warm lips against hers lingered.

Pamela smiled at him rather drunkly. They arrived at her hotel and after exchanging phone numbers, he left. She couldn't wait to fall asleep so that she could dream about continuing the evening.

Pamela set her alarm clock for 5:00 a.m. so that she had time to shower that morning before having to make her way to Arkham Asylum to visit the Joker. She'd have to tell him about what happened, or he'd bully it out of her. But why did it matter? The Joker and she were never together; they never had been and never would be.

But at the same time, there was a sort of unnamable attracting that lingered in the air whenever they were around one another, or perhaps it was just her wishful thinking?

After she had finished showering and drying her hair, she put on a blue blouse and skirt along with her white coat. Papers and briefcase in hand, she headed out the door.

When arriving at Arkham she expected it to be normal, however the guard stopped her immediately.

"This was delivered to the front desk," he said motioning to a bouquet of roses.

She was taken aback, Bruce really was serious. She thanked the guard and took the roses with her. On second thought, she _wanted_ the Joker to see that someone else managed to snag her before he did.

She burst into the room, bouquet practically hiding her face. The Joker looked up to see Pamela with roses for a head.

"Aw, legsy you shouldn't have!" he said gesturing towards the roses.

"They're not for you." She replied curtly.

Immediately the smile faded from his face. If she didn't buy them for him, then it meant someone had gotten them for her. Someone had been playing with his toy.

"Who're they from?" he asked, trying to sound disinterested, but failing miserably.

"Bruce Wayne," she said, quite proud of herself.

"Pshaw! Never heard of him," The joker said looking out the window.

"Well you should, you whacked off his girlfriend," she said rather sourly, putting the roses down on the desk.

The remark caught his interest, if she was talking about who he thought she was.

"What's her name?" he asked quietly.

"Rachel something." She said, somewhat ruffled.

He finally had a suspect. Bruce Wayne. Batman. Now he finally found a function for his little toy, to find out more. But first, he'd have to bring her down a level.

"Ya still got the hots for me though red, right?" he asked smirking at her.

"Of course," she answered sarcastically, taking his blood pressure.

He smiled to himself, she always would, whether she admitted it or not.

"Then give me a hug legsy!" he demanded, throwing his arms open for her.

Before she could say no, he pulled her in close to his body. He was surprisingly cold, and for a moment she could swear that he was smelling her hair.

He pushed her away after a few moments. After finishing taking his vitals she wordlessly left the room. After she departed, the Joker laughed and laughed and laughed; looking at the large bottle of lithium he had managed to fish out of her pocket.

(A/N: He took her meds! Holy crap!)


	6. What's wrong with chaos taking over?

(A/N: I have a new reviewer!! Thank you for reviewing, and yes I am a girl. Hee hee. I hope that everyone is enjoying the story so far. Things are starting to pick up. I only own a small apartment, a boyfriend, and a laptop, no characters.)

It was 10:20 in the morning, seven more minutes and she would have to take her lithium.

Pamela Isley was in a patient named Mara's room (she had been complaining about body aches and muscle spasms.) anxiously looking at her digital watch every five seconds to make sure that the alarm hadn't malfunctioned. She managed to feed the thin, gangly, paranoid schizophrenic an herbal supplement before quickly exiting the room.

Three minutes.

Pamela had two more patients to check up on that day, a young girl suffering from severe psychosis, and an older man, said to be a sociopath.

Two minutes.

Should she call Bruce that night? After all, he did send her that lovely bouquet. Or would she seem too eager, calling the night after? He was the one who sent her the roses though, so he probably _wanted_ her to call him.

One minute.

Pamela hurried to the break room so that she could get a glass of water in order to down those two pills.

30 seconds.

She filled a small red plastic cup with tap water and looked anxiously at her watch.

15 seconds.

Pamela stuck her hand into her jacket pocket, expecting to feel the smooth surface of the bottle. She was quite surprised that when she stuck her hand in, nothing was there. She fished around frantically in her pocket, it wasn't there. She checked the other one…nothing.

10 seconds.

Her breathing was getting coarse. Where was it? Where could it possibly be? Did she leave it Mara's room? Did it fall out when she was running into the employee break room? She remembered putting it in her jacket pocket that morning. The image of her hand grabbing the bottle off the nightstand and sliding it into her pocket was still vivid and fresh in her memory.

5 seconds.

Where was it? Where the hell was it?! No, no. She couldn't miss a dose, she just couldn't. She knew what would happen. She'd have to find it and wait a painful five and a half hours to take it again, or 

worse, she'd have to make a whole new month's dose. She'd have to take a week off of work to do that. No, no, no, this couldn't be happening. She was having a nightmare, a horrible nightmare. It wasn't the first time she'd had a nightmare about this.

10:27.

The beep from her digital watch echoed in her ears, so loudly that she couldn't hear anything else. The room around her seemed to transform into a fuzzy spinning whirl of colors. Her skin raised into goose bumps as she felt acid rising from her stomach into her throat. She gripped the side of a nearby table for support, although she knew that she was steady it felt as if she was falling down a long dark hole. Her muscles contracted uncomfortably as she heaved. Her thoughts became muddled, and the only image she could see was _his _face. She heard his laugh ringing in her head; her smile was the only thing that she would see. A hot, incontrollable rage flared up inside her chest.

"_That bastard," _she hissed, her nostrils flared, teeth bared.

\/

The Joker looked anxiously up at the clock; it was ten thirty already. He thought that she would've at least kicked down the door by now. He rolled the empty pill bottle around in between his fingers out of sheer boredom.

Looking down at the floor he saw a little one rolling on the floor.

"Missed one," he commented to no one in particular.

He bent down to pick it up, feeling the cool surface of the gel capsule between his fingertips. He shrugged briefly before chucking the last remaining pill outside the bars that laced his window.

At that very moment, his dream came true. Pamela swung the door open with such force it almost flew off the hinges. Her hair was a mess, her face red and splotchy; she'd obviously been running to his room at an alarming speed. She slammed the door behind her, keeping her eyes on her target.

"Oooooh," he said, acting like a child who had just been called to the principal's office.

She approached him slowly, not looking away, "Where are they?" she asked, her tone low and dangerous.

"Wha-? Where's what?" he said shrugging, biting his lip to keep from bursting out into hysterical laughter, this was too much.

"Where. Are. They." She repeated, her voice beginning to lose some of its control.

"You gotta be more specific there, red." He said, letting a laugh escape his lips.

With one swift movement, she slammed him into the wall with a surprising amount of force. He hadn't expected that, she packed quite a punch.

"Where are they?! The lithium pills!" she yelled in his face, finally losing control.

"Oh, you mean this little thing?" he said, holding the pill bottle close to her face.

She dropped his collar and snatched the pills from his hand. She tilted the bottle, nothing came out. She turned slowly to see the Joker sitting against the wall, laughing quietly at first, but the intensity growing until he was practically rolling around on the floor. Pamela had had enough. She delivered a hard kick to his groin. He doubled over, laughing even harder.

"I thought we were gonna have kids legsy!" he choked out between laughs.

"What the hell did you do with them? Where are they? Who the hell do you think you are? What are you trying to do?!" she screamed, kicking him repeatedly in the shins, stomping on his feet, kicking him in the face.

He finally got fed up of her kicking the crap out of him. She was about to deliver another well-deserved kick to the groin when he grabbed her foot forcefully and pulled her down, sending her crashing to the floor. Her head hit the tile pretty hard, everything was fuzzy when she opened her eyes to see the Joker on top of her, his face inches from her. She felt a sudden sharp pain in her side, he was pinning her down with his knees.

"I…am trying to teach you a lesson. " he said, raising his eyebrows.

She protested underneath him, squirming, kicking, and punching the air. He managed to pin her arms down to the floor.

"Now listen to teacher, you should have no problem with that, you like teachers right?" he commented, licking his lips.

"You don't need them. Isn't it easier to just…give in?" he reasoned with her.

She shook her head, tears running down her face, no. No, even if it was easier, she didn't want to give in to her imbalance, she didn't want to be controlled by it.

"This is a control issue isn't it," he sighed rather exasperatedly, as if he had to explain this to everyone he met, "All you people want is control, why not just let the chaos take control once and a while. What's so bad about not being in control?"

She protested, shaking her head as if to shake out his words that were sinking into her head. Why did she believe him? Was it just her current state of mind? Why not just give in? Why keep hiding and trying so hard to be something that she obviously couldn't. He kept her pinned down, and after a few moments, she gave up.

"You know, red, I think that…you're kinda hot when you're angry," he said smiling at her.

She laughed, genuinely for the first time. It was refreshing, to laugh, to let go, and just laugh. To not worry about how she was feeling, or her medication, and just to let it fly out the window and laugh.

"Thank you," she said smiling up at him, her anger had melted quickly.

"Now that we're friends again, I have a little job for you…"

(A/N: Short chapter, what is wrong with me. Oh well, reviews are appreciated.  Sorry, I'm just so out of it today, lots of stuff going on. I promise the next chapter will be better.)


	7. It would be so boring

(A/N: My first critiques! I was waiting for them actually, lol. Nightlinger, I did research bipolar disorder somewhat, but mostly I went off of what a friend told me. ((she had a severe case of bi-polar disorder, it was preeeetty bad.)) and you're right about narcotics/alcohol. ; just wasn't thinking, I might just change the bottom of that chapter entirely, because ALSO Amanda9, Bruce doesn't drink. I didn't really pay attention and do my research best. Yes, I've actually grown to like Harley somewhat (being her for Halloween), and my Pamela does have some of her qualities, but she's still hasn't quite let go of 'Pamela' and become Poison Ivy. I will revise Chapter 5, thank you for your criticisms, they really are appreciated. ((shows you guys are looking out for me .))Oh, and captain deadpool, I dedicate the rest of these chapters to you, because you are awesome. And thank you for reading! I own nothing Ch. 5 is revised now!)

Pieces were slowly being peeled away; old wounds were being opened to expose her messy, uncontrollable center. The chaos that she was trying to hide from the world was awakening inside of her, peeking out of her head, ready to jump out at the world.

She relished the fact for a moment that she could feel the Joker still sitting on top of her, he let go of her arms, because he knew that now she wouldn't flail about or cause a ruckus.

"Did you know…why they locked little old me up?" the Joker asked her quietly, running his index finger down the side of her cheek.

She shook her head 'no'. She never really bothered to ask; probably because he killed Bruce's girlfriend.

"It's _because_…of Batman." He said, continuing to stroke his index finger up and down the side of her face.

"What?" she couldn't help but let out a laugh. The masked vigilante?

"_You heard me,"_ he hissed, grabbing her face forcefully. She wasn't supposed to laugh, he was the only one who could laugh.

"And I have a little tiny suspicion that your…" he began, licking his lips, "…boy friend, might be the man I'm looking for."

She looked at him with disbelief. Bruce Wayne? Seriously? He probably didn't even have _time _to be Batman. After all, he was the owner of a major company, she was surprised he even had time to take her out on a date. But in a strange way, she could see it. He had the money for high tech gadgets, no one would dare blackmail a man that powerful, and he was in top physical condition. Maybe it was possible.

"But…I sort of…like Bruce," she admitted sheepishly.

The Joker burst into hysterical laughter.

"And…and you think he'll like _you_? After what you are now? You really think he'll like you? And I thought my jokes were bad! Face it red," he said looking into her eyes which were beginning to well up with tears, "I'm all you have left."

Was that it…? Was that really true? She hadn't thought about it like that. But of course he was right, Bruce wouldn't want to deal with her madness, they were on completely different levels now. He had enough to deal with, and in her new state she would be harder then hell for a normal person like him to handle. He'd cast her out, one little episode in front of him and he'd realize that she really _was _crazy.

But she'd already made her decision. Within the past five minutes she had made a conscious decision to give in and give up a lot of things, she had failed to remember that Bruce would have to be one of those things. To face this fact made her terribly depressed. She felt an eruption of tears flowing out of her eyes and cascading down her cheeks. She couldn't help it, the tears just managed to keep on going, she didn't know that she had that much water in her body.

"Suck it up legsy," he said wiping her cheek with his hand.

"No matter how hard you try, you're not gonna be able to control this. But since you're still a fan of control, I have a little task for you." He said, continuing to wipe the free flow of tears making small rivers down her face.

She nodded, he was all she really had left, she might as well listen to him.

"I'm going to need you, to put those pretty little legs of yours to use…" he began slowly, "since you like ol' Bruce so much, I'm gonna let you keep him for a while. And I know that you're a good actress, you've been doing it your whole life. That's the difference between you and me, I can't hide what's inside." He laughed at the last bit.

"Use your…talents, to find out if Bruce is the man that I'm lookin for," he said looking directly into her eyes.

She nodded, gulping down a lump in her throat. She could do that, she was good at having men, that's where her beauty came in handy, and Bruce already had put an unparalleled amount of trust in her. She knew that she might feel guilty when the false relationship was over, but if Bruce knew who she _really _was, he'd probably be relieved.

"And in the mean time, see if you can find some uh…'herbal supplements' to break me out of this joint," he said winking at her.

"But…if I break you out, they'll know it's me. They'll fire me from Arkham, I won't have any income." She said, pointing out the flaw in his plan.

He waved a hand in front of her face, "You've heard of the five-finger discount."

He hoisted himself up, forgetting that he had been on top of her for that long. He sauntered over to his bed and threw himself across it dramatically, sighing as he did so.

"It's been a tiring day, huh red?" he commented.

She got up and brushed the dirt and lint off her clothes.

"Not for you, I have two more patients to visit," she murmured.

"Well, holding you down was not a piece of cake, let me tell you…" he said shaking his head.

Pamela had never stolen anything in her life, excluding the stick of gum from the gas station when she was seven. But she figured, if she was going to do it for the rest of her life, she might as well start now.

She was going to start out small, like maybe while getting groceries she'd put a package of sliced turkey on the underneath shelf of her shopping cart, and forget to tell the clerk that it's there.

Or maybe, next time she was in 7 Eleven she just _wouldn't_ pay for her slurpee.

She did both that evening and felt incredibly exhilarated, the Joker would be so proud of her when she told him tomorrow.

When she walked into her hotel, the man at the front desk blatantly sneered at her. So she returned the look.

She'd been staying there a little bit too long. That's when she realized that there was another problem on her hands: she would have to find someplace to live. She mentally slapped herself for completely forgetting. Tomorrow she'd have to go apartment hunting, because at the moment that's all she could afford. After all she didn't need that much space. Just enough for her, and possibly the Joker, when she broke him out.

Then she remembered another issue that was on her hands, how was she going to break the joker out? The only method she could think of was explosives, or somehow getting the bars off his window. For some reason the Asylum was stupid enough to put him in a room on the first floor.

She needed something that she could get through the metal detector, that could melt or blow off the bars on his window.

She had a lot of research to do that she was simply not looking forward to.

Also, if she was planning to get fired from Arkham (which she was) she wouldn't have enough money to buy any herbs for her supplements, she'd have to grow them, which would take time and effort. She was finding that so far, moving to Gotham hadn't been any easier on her.

She sighed, wondering only briefly what life would be like if she had stayed in Seattle and had never received that one phone call. She often played pretend like this, always wondering what life would be like if she had taken a different path.

It was one of the many outlets she chose to escape, as she wasn't a fan of life and how it always seemed to just get in the way.

She thought and thought and pondered and thought and imagined.

If none of this had ever happened, her life would be so…boring.


	8. Abrin

(A/N: Yay!! More reviewers!! I love love love love it. Well here we are, already at chapter 8. Captain deadpool, thank you as always for being my most faithful reader! TC Stark, yes the letter has been burned. And the sex, let me tell you it's epic. Berriesarealwayssweeter, thank you so much for your kind review! I always try to update in a timely fashion, because I know how much I HATE waiting for fanfics to update. Thank you guys so much for reading. Now, the show must go on. I own nothing.)

Over an early breakfast of cornflakes (which she totally stole), she managed to circle three ads for apartments that were near downtown Gotham. They were a bit further from the asylum than she would've liked, but still within a good walking distance. She would just have to get up earlier, and after all, walking was good for you, right?

The ringing of her cell phone brought her out of her thoughts. She looked at the caller id.

"Hi Bruce," she answered happily.

"_Hey, did you get the roses? Sorry it's so early," _his voice came hopeful from the other end.

"It's ok, I have to get to Arkham by eight this morning, and yes, I did, they're lovely," she couldn't help but blush, even though she was using him, it was a wonderful gesture.

"_Well, I know you like plants."_

She smiled at that comment, it was said she had a bit of a green thumb. It was more of a hobby than a love, per say.

"_So, when am I going to get to see you again?"_

She was taken aback at first. It was completely different having to use someone that you actually sort of cared about. She wondered if it was something she was really capable of doing.

"_You really think he'll like you?" _the Joker's word echoed through her head.

No, if he really knew the new her, he'd want nothing to do it. Using him would be hard, but it would just be better that way. She felt a twinge of anger, that she knew that he would never accept her, she was just not normal enough for her. Her anger began to flare even more.

"Well, I actually have to go apartment hunting this afternoon. You know the city better than I do, you want to help me find a good spot?" she asked, masking her anger with a smile.

"_Sure, I'd love to. What time do you get off work?"_

"Oh, I don't have work today," she informed him, pushing the phone between her ear and shoulder as she washed out her cornflakes bowl.

"_I thought you had to be at Arkham at eight this morning?" _ He asked, rather confused, if she didn't have work why was she going?

"I have a quick follow up appointment with one of my patients, shouldn't take more than an hour or two. Didn't really want to keep him waiting," the Joker didn't like to be kept waiting.

"_Alright, give me a call when you get out and I'll come pick you up."_

"In your fancy car?" she asked playfully.

She heard a chuckle from the other end.

"_What if I pick you up in a junk car?"_

"I'll still be seen with you," she answered truthfully.

"_Good to know."_

"I'll see you later," she told him, she had an hour to get ready, so she needed to cut their conversation down a little shorter.

"_Alright, give me a call then."_

"G'bye," and with that she hung up.

She took a quick shower and crunched her hair as she didn't have the time to dry her mid-back length, thick, mane.

She slid on a pair of green shorts and a white button-down shirt with a large brown belt around her middle.

She had done some research at an internet café last night, and she was prepared to tell the Joker about her findings.

..

"You're not in employee dress code," the guard at the front desk informed her, taking a quick peek at her exposed legs.

"I'm a visitor today," she informed him, "I also promised the Joker that I'd give him a follow up today, his stomach's been bothering him."

He raised a quizzical eyebrow at her. Pamela wasn't usually a liar, but now she was starting to get the hang of it. She feared for a moment that the guard might not have believed her, but to her relief he motioned for her to go through the metal detector.

Before opening the door to room 1306 she adjusted her shorts, pulling them up higher on her hips, knowing that the more leg she showed, the happier he'd be.

Immediately upon entering, she had gotten the response that was expected.

He let out a low whistle, "Sometimes I think you do it on purpose."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she lied.

"Well, well, well, it's your day off red. What are you doing here? Come to see little old me?" he asked, flashing a smile.

She closed the door behind her and sat at the desk to show that she meant business.

"I've been researching your predicament."

"Pre. Dic. Uh. Ment." He repeated each syllable slowly.

"At first I thought of just blowing off the bars on your windows, but I don't know anything about explosives." She explained.

"So I can't go out with a bang then?" he asked, rather put out.

"No, unfortunately not."

"Well then, how are you going to solve my little, as you say, predicament." He asked, taking the seat opposite of her at the desk.

"Have you ever heard of Abrin?" she asked, knowing the answer already.

"No, who's he?" he answered before laughing hysterically at his own joke.

Pamela ignored him and continued, "Abrin, is a toxin that is found in the seeds of a plant called the rosary pea. It can be made in the form of a pellet, mist, powder, or just simply dissolved in water."

"Go on," he urged her, his interest peaking.

"When inhaled or ingested, it penetrated the cells of the body, prohibiting protein synthesis. Thus, the cells will begin to die." She explained further.

"Listen…Pammie…I haven't been, in a…science class, for a while now. So you're going to have to speak some English." He said rolling his eyes.

"In the most basic terms I could possibly put it? If this plant toxin gets in your body, you will die."

He couldn't help but crack a grin. She was learning, she was thinking outside the box, and that's the only way that escaping an insane asylum could possibly ever work, is by thinking outside the box.

He let out a few slow claps for her.

"I like it. Put it in the water," he demanded.

"Well there are a few minor setbacks. It can take the toxin twenty-four to seventy-two hours to kill someone. And I'm pretty sure that this toxin isn't going to be very easy to get a hold of." She hesitated.

"Anything quicker?" he asked hopefully, he hated waiting.

"Well, there's Cicutoxin. It only takes an hour, but it has to be ingested, and the conditions to keep it are a lot fussier than Abrin." She contemplated. Abrin was probably easier to get a hold of.

He sat back in his chair; the only way to get this done was to kill off almost everyone in the whole damn asylum. He didn't care, but the way she was going at it was so…impersonal. It's like she didn't even _care _about her victims.

"Alright, put the Abraham in the water pitchers in the kitchen. People are probably going to taste it and spit it out, but some of it will still get into their system anyway. If everyone isn't dead within three days after, find away to whack off the others with that Sickietoxin." He tried to explain the best he could.

"You mean, Abrin and Cicutoxin," she corrected him.

"Meant what I said," he shrugged.

She scowled up at him. Idiot.

"It's my day off, so I better run. In the mean time, I'll try and find out how to get a hold of those plants," she said standing up and scooting in her chair.

"So you're leaving me then?" he asked, somewhat sour. He was in no mood; his cabin fever was starting to get the better of him. He wasn't a fan of being caged.

"I've got a date with Batman," she winked at him.

He smirked; he was starting to like her style. He sauntered up behind her as she reached for the door handle. The Joker put one hand on the door and leaned his weight against it, prohibiting her from opening it while also caging her between him and the door.

"You know…" he began, pushing back his mat of hair and licking his lips, "Maybe one day, I'll take you out on a…date."

She blushed furiously while pushing him away with all of her force. He barely moved, cracking a grin at her response.

"You'll just have to drag me along," she answered, rather huffy.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her up against his chest.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." He hissed at her.

He pushed his head over her right shoulder; she could feel her heart beating about a mile a minute. She felt a tiny nibble on her ear before he let go and pushed her away lightly.

She bolted out of the room, feeling her ear; she wasn't quite sure what to do with herself.

..

"Thank you for coming to help me," she smiled at him warmly.

"It's no problem, wouldn't want you to get a bad deal," Bruce answered, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Can't have that," she mused

He had picked her up in the Lamborghini, as she thought he would. She got quite a lot more stares being seen in town with him, much more than when she was by herself. They were a beautiful couple, people were bound to stare.

The first place that she had gotten to see was a total dump. But the second was most likely her future home.

It was a spacious, two bedroom apartment, overlooking Robinson Park. She figured she and Bruce would be making many strolls through there while they were dating. (Until she found out if he was or wasn't Batman.)

She looked out the window of her future home down at the park. She was slightly startled when Bruce put a hand on her shoulder.

"If you'd like, until everything is finalized, you can stay at my penthouse," he suggested.

Without thinking she nodded fervently.

He smiled happily at her; he was hoping she'd say yes. When you live with someone for a week alone, you learn much more about them at a much faster pace. He prayed that this would turn out well.

This was not a part of the Joker's 'plan', but she knew that she had to do whatever it took to find out if he was the masked vigilante. And if staying with him was the only way, then she'd do it over and over again.

(A/N: Ahhhh. Another chapter done. There might be two chapters tomorrow, maybe three, maybe only one. Who knows. But there will be another chapter tomorrow. I guarantee.)


	9. This would so Nicely on my Nightstand

(A/N: Captain Deadpool, _she _ thinks that he can be an idiot sometimes, but we all know who the real idiot is. Yah? XPrettyXWomanX17X, I don't like canon pairings, to be quite honest so for me any pairing is possible, ((Joker/Bruce, Poison Ivy/Harry Potter, Joker/Me, Me/My Reviewers.)), and thank you for the wonderful review! Throughout this story there will be time lapses. For example, it's been a month since she moved into her new apartment, Bruce and her have been getting along swimmingly. So get used to random time lapses. Let's cut deeper then, shall we? I don't own these characters, just make them my bitches.)

Rosary Peas were not as easy to get a hold of as she would've hoped. They only grew in tropical areas, and were native to Indonesia. Well, Gotham City was by no means tropical or at all close to Indonesia. However, she did manage to find solace in the cicutoxin.

Cicutoxin was found in the roots of the water hemlock, which incidentally looked like parsnips and had a carrot-like odor. Even two or three bites of the roots have proven to be fatal. Death could occur within thirty to sixty minutes. She smiled satisfactorily. All she needed to do now was find one, or perhaps even _grow _one if she could get a hold of the seeds. The task wouldn't be too difficult.

The plant was native to North America; it grew in swamps, marshes, and even certain ditches. This was not going to be a problem.

The only thing that she couldn't figure out is what her and the Joker would do _after _he was broken out of Arkham. Where would they go? Would they leave and start a new life? Would they stay in Gotham while he terrorized the city? One thing was for sure, and that was that it would always be 'they', and never 'her' alone again.

She didn't mind, she liked to be spoken for, in a way. She also doubted that once you were with the Joker that there was any possible way to leave him. He had charmed her, in a strange and sick way. He opened all the right doors for a new and exciting path that she was more than ready to travel down.

Even though Cicutoxin took only thirty minutes to work, she knew that the Joker would want something more lethal and quicker. She'd have to inject the roots with some type of catalyst, or perhaps refine it somehow into something potent.

The only fast acting drug that she could think of was dimethylmercury, which would kill you in under a minute. However, it killed through skin contact which meant, she couldn't get anywhere near it, or spill it on herself in anyway. Inhaling was also out of the question. For now, the Joker would have to just be patient until she could find a way to completely refine the cicutoxin into something faster acting.

In the mean time, she was enjoying her new apartment. (It had been about a month since she moved in). During that month she had come much more accustom to lying and stealing; starting out small, but gradually getting bigger. It gave her a certain thrill that she hadn't been caught so far, she was getting the hang of things.

The week that she stayed at Bruce's penthouse had been somewhat of a dream, she had someone to dote on her every morning, kiss her when she woke up and when she went to sleep, made her 

breakfast, listen to her drone on about work. However, she got the feeling that one of his butlers, Alfred, didn't like her much.

He always gave her a disapproving glare whenever she walked by him. She wondered if he saw through her.

One thing that she noticed was that the Joker seemed to be getting surlier by the second. It must've been difficult for a man like him though, men never did well in cages. His face was beginning to look somewhat worn out, and he didn't laugh quite as often as he used to. Was Arkham getting the better of him?

No. Nothing could get the better of the Joker.

She looked at her digital watch, the one she used to track her medication times with. It was amazing how far away that seemed. Only a month ago, she was someone else. She was someone who was worried about _normal _things. She was someone who rarely lied or stole. She was someone who wasn't willing to fight. She was normal and _weak._

Even by looking in the mirror, she could tell that there was something different about her. Her appearance before she came to Gotham had become muted and typical. But now, she felt wild, she felt uncontrollable and it was beginning to show.

It was exhilarating, to do things and not worry about the consequences. What were consequences anymore? What was guilt? What was it to be normal?

Her watch read 6:00 a.m. She should've been halfway to Arkham already, but the Joker wasn't going anywhere, so she took her time.

When she got to his room he was in his usual position, propped up against the wall, legs sprawled out. He looked up at her briefly before looking back down at a mess of green fabric that was notted up in his hands.

"Why do you look so down?" she asked, sitting on the floor next to him to take his vitals.

He sighed, "It's just the joint, red. A place like this…well…it can drive ya crazy," he managed to let out a hollow laugh.

"Cheer up, I'm working on getting you out." She said, taking his blood pressure.

To her surprise he ripped the blue strap off his arm and chucked it across the room. It hit the wall with a loud bang.

"Yeah but when, huh?! When?! Because I've been waiting…as _patiently _as I can. Why don't you just bring in some gasoline and matches and I'll get the job done myself!" He yelled, extremely out of character.

She shrunk back, somewhat frightened by this sudden outburst.

"Your way is messy," she said quietly.

"_Messy. _People are…going to be SPEWING bloody chunks everywhere when you feed them that nasty plant root. We'll be sliding around everywhere trying to get out of here," he said, imagining the entire scene, managing to crack a sinister grin.

She didn't answer him, but instead checked his pulse.

"No matter, since you're beginning to embrace the illusion, I made something for you." He said, rolling out the green mess of fabric in his hands.

He rolled out what appeared to be a green, one piece, suit. It was embroidered with leaves, and attached at the bottom was a pair of lighter green stockings. Along with it, what looked like a black harlequin mask.

"Since when have they let you sew?" she snorted.

"They encourage…creative outlets." He explained, imagining her in his little creation.

"Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not much into role play," she laughed.

"As…delectable as that sounds, that's not what…I made this…that's not what I made this for." He said throwing it over her.

"Then what _is _it for?"

"See," he began licking his lips, looking up at the ceiling as if searching for answers, "I want you to be a regular…see. When you become a…villain, per say, it's smarter to have something that the uh…public can identify you with. I, for example, wear the, um, make up. This little beauty, will definitely stop some traffic."

She looked at the green outfit. Would she really wear this? It was somewhat ridiculous, but so was the Joker. Arkham really was driving the Joker insane.

"It's flexible, it compliments your complexion, and shows off those lovely gams of yours." He commented, laughing at his own little joke.

"And…by the way, when you're uh…wearing my little outfit, you _probably _shouldn't be addressed as Pamela Isley." He continued, scooting a little close to her.

This was getting insane, she was going to commit crime in a ridiculous spandex costume under an alias. She felt like a comic book character.

But the Joker knew what was best, after all he'd been doing things like this a lot longer. She couldn't help but feel a slight thrill in the pit of her stomach. Then it hit her.

"If we're being cheesy, Poison Ivy." She suggested.

The Joker looked at her curiously for a moment, before a wide grin cracked onto his face, accentuating the scars.

"It works. I'm proud of you legsy." He said, nudging her with his elbow. She was beginning to give into the madness.

She stood up, "I have a few other patients to visit, give it back to me at five when I come back in, ok?"

He nodded, the grin still plastered to his strangely handsome face.

/

She had managed to see about four patients that day, it had been busy and she was incredibly tired. In the middle of it all, she had received a text from Bruce, reminding her how important she was to him. This lifted her spirits slightly.

It was five, time to see the Joker one last time before she had to go home.

When she entered his room, he was waiting at the door for her. She was slightly startled and walked straight into him.

He shut the door behind her promptly and caged her in between him and the door. He did this sometimes, and Pamela was used to it by now.

"I have to go, bu-" she began but then was cut off by his lips being smashed down against hers.

She was quite surprised to feel him on her like that, his mouth was rough and hungry, taking as much as he wanted. She tried to pull away, but he simply put one hand behind her head and forced her deeper into him. After a few moments she realized that she had wrapped her arms around his neck, his other hand was in between her thighs, dangerously close to the tip of her panties. He pulled his head away from hers and stared drunkly into her eyes for a moment. She was utterly and completely his to play with.

It wasn't quite the icing on the cake yet, he already had a plan on how to do that. He was just reeling her in, reminding her who was running the show.

He shoved the outfit into her arms.

"Make your Uncle Joker proud, Poison Ivy," he hissed before opening the door and pushing her out.

/

She wasn't quite sure to make of what had happened an hour ago.

The stale taste of his lips remained floating around pleasantly in her mouth. She kept bringing her hands up to touch her lips, because she felt his still crushed down upon them.

One thing was certain, she was going to do something that night. She was going to use her new identity, and she was going to use it for something drastic. She needed proof, she needed proof that she was numb. She needed to know that she was capable of what she had to become.

In her apartment, she put on the costume, taking her hair out of its usual bun. She had to admit, wearing it made her feel somewhat sexy. A thrill pulsed through her veins. She felt like she could to anything.

There was a local modern art museum downtown, Bruce had taken her there on a date once, she would steal a piece. Nothing too major, nothing extremely fancy, the only thing that she worried about, was getting all the guards out of her way.

At her side, she kept a large steak knife, she put on a belt and kept it hid behind her back.

At midnight she crept out of her apartment, her heart was going a million miles a minute. She climbed up fire escape after fire escape until reaching the roof of her building. Luckily the modern art museum was only six buildings down, and there was only about one meter distance between each building. Easily jumped.

She leapt from building to building until she reached her target. She used the handle of her steak knife to break the padlock off of the door that led to the stairs.

She crept quietly past the security room, trying to get out of the way of security cameras.

Then she saw it. A white, oddly shaped, vase. It was small, portable, and perfect. She reached out and grabbed it, cursing herself when she did, because immediately the alarm began to sound. She ran as fast as she could, ducking beneath security cameras as best as she could.

"Hey! Stop! Drop it!" a security guard stepped out in front of her.

Without thinking, she took her knife and plunged it forcefully down into his neck. He stumbled backwards, blood squirting out, making a strange gurgling noise. She stepped back, so as the crimson liquid wouldn't stain her clothes. He fell to the floor and she pulled her knife out of his neck, wiping the excess blood off onto his shirt.

She ran up the stairs and hurried back to her apartment. It was almost too easy.

The vase would look beautiful on her nightstand.

(A/N: it was too easy. I know I know. But I'm really bad at writing scenes like that. Not my style. However, expect a citrus gift in the next chapter.)


	10. She Preferred his Approach

(A/n: This chapter I actually wrote after the second chapter, even though it obviously doesn't belong there. This chapter isn't necessary, but I enjoy a good lemon. So in this chapter...THERE'S TWO (gasp) read on if you're feeling raunchy.)

It had been 3 months since Bruce and Pamela Isley had begun dating. 3 months since she had come to Gotham city on the whim of an old patient whom she had come to admire. 2 months since she began to commit crime under the alias 'Poison Ivy'. 2 months since she had shared a strange and still lingering, hungry kiss with the Joker. 3 months closer to finding the true identity of Batman. 3 months. She knew that that meant.

Time for the Joker's check up.

It was something she had been dreading, and at the same time waiting anxiously for. Why was she dreading it? He would make it a joke (obviously) when it was, still of course, her job. Why was she excited for it? The Joker had been on good behavior for 3 months, she and him could be alone.

She reached Arkham Asylum, an odd feeling resting in her lower abdomen, it was the same feeling that she got whenever Bruce put his hand on the small of her back. Because she knew what was going to happen next. He'd pull her into a long, deep kiss while putting one hand behind her head, and the other would rest where it was, on the small of her back. Occasionally, his thumb or forefinger would find its way down the back of her skirt and graze ever so lightly against the tip of her panties. But that was only if he was frisky.

Pamela waved at the guard, (the same one who had mistaken her for a stripper) and flashed him her I.D. badge, he gave her a thumbs up and motioned for her to go through the metal detector. She opened it quickly and practically skipped down the hallway until she reached room 1306. The guard standing outside the room gave her a weary look. She was there too often.

"It's time for his check up. I'm going to need the panic buzzer so I can put the blinds down. "She informed him.

The guard was already way ahead of her. He reached in his pocket and pulled out the panic button device, she slipped it into the side pocket of her supplies briefcase, her heart involuntarily skipping a beat when she walked in.

The Panic Buzzer was a device that she had to use whenever she gave any of her patients a check-up. They were given a certain level of privacy, so she had to close the blinds. In case the patient got too rowdy, you'd press the button and a guard would burst through the door to restrain the violent inmate.

The Joker wasn't in his usual position, instead of being slouched against the wall, legs sprawled out, and he was crouched down on the floor, as if he was ready to pounce. She slammed the door and pulled down the blinds to get his attention. He managed to look up at her briefly, then down again at his own shoes. She grabbed a seat at the desk and began to wordlessly take out her supplies.

The Joker sprung up overdramatically before sliding into the seat across the desk from her.

"You're going to sit in a chair this time then?" she asked without even bothering to look up.

"What's up doc?" he said before laughing uncontrollably.

Pamela at least cracked a smile before closing her supply case.

The Joker took one look at her supplies before deducing what was going on that day.

"Oh, it's _that _time then, is it?" he let out a low chuckle that made Pamela's stomach contract in a pleasant way.

"Check-up time." she said shortly while arranging his health file.

"Been a long time since I had one of these." he said pushing back his unruly hair with his hand as if he was getting ready for a date.

"Just a couple of questions first, then on to the physical exam." she said, trying to sound as professional as possible.

"Questions..._physical exam_... got it." he repeated to no one in particular.

"Alright, how have you been feeling lately?"

"Peachy."

"Nothing abnormal going on? No aches, no pains, stomach problems, throat, head, coughing, normal bowel movements?"

"As...normal...as I can be," he replied cracking a grin.

His fingers twitched around as he bounced his knees up and down rapidly. He was feeling a bit of cabin fever. When the hell was she going to break him out?

"Alright, guess I'll take your blood pressure then."

Pamela stumbled around the other side of the desk, nearly falling before the Joker caught hold of her arm to steady her. His grip was just a bit too tight, bruising almost before he let her go.

She ignored the moment and wrapped the blue strap tightly around his arm and began to pump. He was being surprisingly silent and cooperative. Was he waiting for something? Did he know something that she didn't?

His blood pressure was normal.

She took out her thermometer and stuck it in ear. Temperature: normal.

"Ok, just going to shine this light to check your eyes and nose, and your throat."

He giggled somewhat when she stuck the light up in his nose, but other than that, he had been silent. Pamela was starting to get worried.

"Alright, now your reflexes."

She placed the instrument at the appropriate place on his knee and let the hammer fall with a light thud. He over exaggerated the leg movement and almost ended up kicking the back of her head. He found this to be extremely hysterical and started cracking up. Pamela just found it infuriating.

As he laughed and rolled she screamed at him, "Shut up! Shut up! It's not funny!"

They both had their fits and sat back in their seats as if nothing had happened.

"Let's see how your lungs and heart are doing." she said adjusting the stethoscope into her ears.

The Joker sat there with a devilish half-smile etched across his face.

"You...you're going to have to unbutton your shirt so I can...hear...you know, properly." she began, rather flustered.

The Joker never kept his eyes off her; with the same devilish smirk he unbuttoned his shirt to reveal an expanse of ivory touched skin.

Pamela tore her eyes away from the patch of hair that lead from his belly button down to the top of his pants. She reached over and touched the stethoscope to his bare chest. As soon as metal touched skin, he jumped up as if it had burned.

"Woo! Ha! That's cold! Ahahaha," he laughed clutching his stomach.

"Sit down!" Pamela hissed angrily.

He obliged, as not to make her too angry, but he still had a little giggle fit of his own.

She touched the stethoscope to his skin once again and she heard his heart beat loud and clearly. Normal.

"You're going to need to breathe deeply for me." she asked.

He did so as she placed the stethoscope around his chest and back. When she was satisfied, she took the stethoscope from her ears and gulped back a lump in her throat. She knew what she had to do, and she'd been putting it off. But somehow she wondered if that was what he was waiting for.

"You can go ahead and button your shirt up." she said, putting the stethoscope away. She began to put on her latex gloves.

The Joker kept the half-smile, and his shirt remained unbuttoned, hanging limply off his shoulders.

After she put on her latex gloves, the Joker's eyes seemed to light up.

"Oh boy, my favorite part." he said clapping his hands together once before chuckling to himself.

Pamela cleared her throat anxiously ignoring him.

"Now I have to uhm, check you for a, uhm, hernia. So. I am um, going to n-need you to uh, drop 'em." she struggled to spit out the words, for the joker was already way ahead of her.

He stood up and dropped his pants and undergarments in one swift move. Not including the shirt hanging from his shoulders, he was completely naked before her. He thrust his hands outwards as if to say 'ta da', because he could tell that she was admiring. And he was going to take full advantage of it.

She wasn't surprised by his size; after all, she expected it. He had a right to brag. She finally saw where the trail from his bellybutton led to. She felt as if the feeling in her abdomen swelled up through her entire body and her hands began to shake as she slid two fingers underneath his scrotum.

"You know the drill." she managed to choke out.

He turned his head to the right and let out a cough.

No hernia.

She quickly removed her fingers from his scrotum and turned away, taking off her latex gloves.

"Ok. Everything is normal. You can go ahead and get dressed." she huffed out, her heart running at about 100 miles an hour.

But this time, the Joker did not oblige, he sauntered up behind her and slid an arm around her waist. He gripped her tightly, almost knocking the wind out of her. She felt his member growing hard against her thigh. Her heart sped up even more.

"What does, Mr. Wayne do for you, gorgeous?" he hissed into her ear.

She was speechless as she felt her cheeks grow hot; her legs trembled and ached to be wrapped around his waist.

"I can guarantee you, that whatever _Mr. Wayne_ does I can do it ten times better."

He turned her around forcefully, and pushed her back up against the wall, pinning her to it with his body. The feeling inside her abdomen began to swell.

"You'll want to say my name, ten times louder." he whispered huskily before picking her up and throwing her down on the desk with a loud thud.

Pamela knew that she would have bruises after this. But she wanted them; he was loving her _his_ way.

"I haven't done this is a while either," he said before bursting out into his trademark maniacal laughter.

He didn't give her much time before crushing his lips down against hers, they were hungry and wonton. He shoved his tongue into her mouth, feeling each and every contour as he pleased. He tore her blouse open with his hands, causing three buttons to fly off while the others magically stayed intact.

She moaned quietly as his hands pulled down her skirt forcefully. He climbed on top of her and began to suck and gnaw on her neck. He wanted to leave his mark, he claimed her. She was _his _tool and no one else could use her.

She ground her hips against his, aching to feel him inside of her. The bubble in her abdomen continued to swell as he removed her bra and panties. He stared at the voluptuous woman before him and his member gave a pulse, his loins tightened, he wanted to destroy her. He wanted to ravage her body and leave nothing left, he wanted to rip her limb from limb, he wanted to maim her until she was unrecognizable, now that he had her, and he could finally corrupt her.

He began to suck ruthlessly on her breast and squeezed the other until she let out a cry of pain. She moaned even more as she felt his rough tongue graze up the side of her cheek. He lowered his head and body so he could rub his cheek against her legs, her beautiful legs. He wanted to taste them, feel them wrapped around him. He ran his tongue up her thigh, stopping briefly over her hood, sucking only for a moment on her clit and then moving on to the other leg . Then it happened. Without warning, without telling her, he'd had enough.

With an impressive amount of force he jammed his member inside of her quivering entrance. She let out a surprised gasp before feeling the pain; it felt as if she had been split in two. The bubble that was in her abdomen burst sending a feeling of shock throughout her body. Her walls singed with pain, but she knew he wouldn't stop until he was finished.

He knew that he had hurt her, he saw it in her eyes, he felt her entrance tighten around him, he was completely satisfied with the small trickle of blood that caked his penis as he withdrew half-way from her before plunging himself back in.

He went as fast and as deep as he wanted, occasionally she would cry out, but he always had one hand at the ready to slap over her mouth if she got too loud. As his pleasure peaked he let out an involuntary moan, spilling his seeds inside of her.

He didn't ask if she was ovulating, or if she was on the pill, he didn't care. He was done. He stood up promptly as if nothing had happened and began to redress himself.

Pamela still laid there on her back, surprised. This was not how it was supposed to be. And that made her incredibly angry.

Pamela managed to get in a few choice slaps in the face to the Joker before she left in angry tears. The guards weren't suspicious when she tore out of the room hopping mad, forgetting the panic device was still in her briefcase. She had a large hickey on her neck that she would have to lie about later, her vagina still hurt like the dickens. Her anger began to boil up even more inside her.

But she couldn't have an episode, she had to go home to Bruce and act as if nothing happened.

As she stormed into Bruce's penthouse, she received her regular disapproving glare from Alfred, but this time she had no energy to fight about it. She climbed up the stairs to Bruce's room and threw herself onto the bed, her fiery hair fanned out around her. She would just go to bed early that night.

Bruce peeked in to see his woman lying on the bed, clothing askew, tears in her eyes, her lips brought to a pout: she'd had a rough day. And he was ready to be her caregiver.

He snuck in the room quietly and sat down on the bed beside her. Though she was aware of his presence, she said nothing. He brought his hand up to her forehead, but she recoiled away and rejected his touch with revulsion. His raised his eyebrow quizzically, and then he saw the large bruise across her neck. Anger boiled deep within his chest.

"What happened?" he asked his voice unexpectedly harsh.

She had a few seconds of silence before choosing her best lie.

"One of my asylum patients got a little rough with me today. But the guards took care of it. He tried to strangle me." she said, pushing out a few tears for effect.

Bruce ran his hand through her hair affectionately before pulling her up into a hug and cradling her in his enormous arms. She melted into his frame so easily as he kissed her forehead.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to her.

She smiled to herself. If not for one night, she wanted her relationship with Bruce to be genuine.

She reached up and gave him a peck on the cheek. He smiled warmly at her while he gently laid her down on his bed; he rolled over to her other side and took her hand in his.

"Hey Pam?" he beckoned quietly.

"Yes?" she answered.

"It's been a few months. And I've been wanting to ask you this for a while, but I wanted to be sure that everything was right." he began, looking directly into her eyes.

She suddenly got frightened, what was he going to ask of her? What could she possibly give today? She had nothing left, why would he ask something like that? Anger began to stir in the pit of her stomach.

"What?" she asked tersely, tightening her grip on his hand.

"Would you like...to live here? With me?" he asked quietly.

She was taken aback. Live there? That wasn't part of it. That wasn't in the plan. She was supposed to find out if he was Batman, surely if he fell in love with her this much he would've told her by now? What if he wasn't Batman? For some reason, she didn't feel like a moment of her time was wasted.

"Yes," she answered him smiling, without really thinking.

An involuntary grin spread across his face as he pulled her in for a gentle kiss.

She loved the feeling of his soft lips against hers. They were never hungry unless hers were, they were gentle and accepting. She deepened the kiss and he followed her. For some strange, inexplicable reason, she wanted him. She wanted to make love to him. Because she knew that it would be comfortable. Slow, steady, comfort.

He could feel her urging and he quickly responded. Bruce brought the light silky sheets over their bodies and began to carefully unbutton her blouse, continuing to kiss her softly. She brought her hands down to undo his pants and slid them off with ease. She could see his erection from under the sheet. Strong, smooth, and beckoning her. She wanted to do something for him; she wondered if he would accept? She didn't bother to ask before disappearing under the covers. He tilted his head back and let out an audible moan as he felt her warm lips caress the tip of his member. She continued to bob her head up and down as he became closer and closer to the peak of his pleasure. As his moans got more intense she stopped. She wanted more.

He hoisted her out from under the covers by her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. She felt his erection in between her thighs. Much like the Joker, he didn't disappoint. He slid a hand down the front of her panties, his thumb rubbing circles around her hood.

A wave of pleasure pulsed lightly through her body.

"May I?" he asked, bringing his finger down to entrance.

She nodded enthusiastically as he slid his forefinger in and out slowly. She smiled to herself, feeling small rivulets of pleasure echo through her abdomen. He began to kiss her neck on the non-bruised side and eventually brought his finger out of her to put his hand on the small of her back. She felt herself melt to his touch, pulling him closer, she removed her bra and panties. He took the hint and removed his shirt. He began to suck lightly on her breast while rubbing her nipple with his thumb on the other one. She kissed his head and ran her hands through his hair. He brought his head up to her hers and stuck his erection between her legs.

He looked at her to gage her reaction, she urged him on and he slowly slid inside of her. She sighed with relief as she felt him comfortably inside of her. He continued, rhythmically, and eventually gaining speed. It felt good. It felt _comfortable_.

He reached his peak and managed to breathe out "I'm going to-"

"Keep it in," she said huskily.

He came inside of her and sighed happily as he pulled out; he looked into her eyes and brought a kiss to her forehead. She smiled as he pulled her close to his chest and buried his head into her hair.

It was slow, comfortable, and accepting. They didn't have sex, they made love.

She learned something that night. She learned that this was not where she belonged. She learned that normalcy was not her style. That she could never be loved, and that she didn't want to be. She preferred the Joker's approach.


End file.
